


"I'm home."

by morganaa4



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganaa4/pseuds/morganaa4
Summary: Coming home is harder than it seems.





	"I'm home."

Peter stared at himself in the mirror. He smiled at his reflection, the corner of his lips only lifting so far before being tugged down once again. As Peter’s expression slipped, he inhaled, not hiding his frustration before grabbing his backpack and leaving the mess of his room. 

May was sitting on the couch, hands drawn together on her knees, waiting patiently for Peter to come out of hiding. She smiles gently as he closes the door, lifting herself up and snatching her car keys from their place beside her favourite vase.  
“Are you ready?”.  
It’s a simple question, one asked every morning when Peter is running late and has to rely on his aunt to save him from missing first period. Yet, he hesitates, one hand still on the door handle, the other clutching tighter the straps of his backpack. 

While he had returned as if no time had passed, hours after saying goodbye to his aunt and placing a kiss to her forehead, she had had time to develop crinkles around her smile and lose some of the light in her eyes. While Peter had been stuck, unmoving in time, she had lived the past five years grieving the loss of her family. Things had continued to go forward without those that had disappeared, who had fallen victim to the blip. But they were not the only victims. Those remaining behind were left to pick up the missing pieces and to rebuild, a lot of them failing in the process. Aunt May had tried. They were not “dead”, in the conventional sense. There was no body, no funeral, no closure. Not knowing became a coping mechanism and staying in the dark on her boy’s fate made it easier to imagine him somewhere far away, far away but alive. She could see it, him and so many others continuing their lives. Her boy, because that is who he is, someone she loves unconditionally and irrevocably, fighting crime, growing into the man she would always be proud of. She couldn’t face the image of a boy, barely a teenager, rushing to save the world only to be erased at the snap of a finger. 

Then, there had been a knock. No one came by anymore, all busy mourning their own, ignoring the ache that did not seem to fade or even lessen years after the Decimation. Still, she had pushed herself to her feet, lowering the volume of the television before heading to the door. The apartment building was quiet, too quiet with most of the occupants either gone or away on night shifts. She glanced through the peephole, he breath caught itself, stuck in her throat and she slid to the floor. Her forehead against the wood, the tears were begging to spill. There was another knock, softer this time, more hesitant. Then the door knob jangled and the voice on the other side called out her name. She grabbed onto what she could, pushed herself back up once again, dust trailing behind her. The door opened and May blinked, once, twice.  
“Peter”, she breathed. He looked the same, except for the shadow beneath his eyes and the specks of blood coloring his features. His gaze was steady on her face.  
“I’m home.” He managed a soft smile and before she knew it, she was clutching his forearm. She crushed him to her, he squeezed back and she finally let the tears reach her cheeks. She would never let him go again. 

Now, as she stood waiting for him, he thought of the weeks after his return. She had recounted the last five years to him. He had explained what had happened, in space and on earth. She had been a constant presence, whenever he would lose himself in his own head, something he used to be able to hide before everything.  
She would make him laugh when things became too much, too strange. She would hold him, reassure him he was home, that she was safe, just like she used to hold him when he was small enough to fit on her laps.

Peter shook the memories away and smiled, more genuinely then before.  
“I’m ready.”

The ride was relatively quiet, the soft purr of the engine and the faraway sound of traffic lulling the conversation. He was glad, the calm before the storm of highschool.

Although he and the rest of the erased population had re-appeared more than three weeks ago, arrangements to accommodate the returnees had taken more time than expected. This meant that, for a lot of children, school had been on hold. That is, until today.

He knew for a fact that Ned had appeared with the rest of his family on his living room couch, as if they had never left. However, the electricity was gone and the food had rotted, signs of the passing of time. They had called eachother soon after but had yet to see eachother again. May had been hesitant to let Peter out of her sight and he had been reluctant to let her.

He must have looked far away in his own head once again because aunt May’s hand is squeezing his knee and, soon enough, she’s chatting away. She speaks of her new blubbering co-worker ( “Just a child, really.”), she wonders out loud what she’ll make for dinner. And then he’s answering her, laughing at her description of their crazy neighbor and wondering what his timetable will look like. The ride to Midtown High School passes by in a blur and before he knows it, he’s kissed her cheek, left the warmth of the car and is staring at the gates he hasn’t seen in weeks (years). 

Peter only has the time to breathe in a sigh before he is swept away by the crowd. The halls are filled to the brim with kids welcoming each other back. Even without his spider senses, Peter would be able to hear the shouts across the school and the squeals of excitement of friends seeing friends for the first time in a long while. There is no mention of the five years they have all lost, one way or another.  
Peter feels his chest tighten, the slight shake of his hands force him to push them further inside his pockets as he stands in the middle of it all.  
He doesn’t even have time to find his locker before he sees Ned coming his way, his usual bubbly self. Closer now, Peter can see the slight downturn of his smile and the hunch in his shoulders but then he notices Peter and grins and everything is like it used to be.  
“Hey man.”  
“It’s good to see you, waouh. Hey.” And then they’re clapping each other on the back, arms around each other. It’s like nothing has changed and they’re fist bumping and back clapping. Ned’s incessant chatter is comforting and they quickly make their way to homeroom as the first bell rings.

In class, it’s clear that they’re not the only ones to have blipped out, misplacing the last five years. However, unfamiliar faces stare back at them. Peter realises soon enough that they are not as unknown as he first thought. These are not random strangers. Millicent Bridges has grown several inches but her hair is still a frizzy mess, freckles still sprinkle her nose.  
Adila Patel is still as small as she used to be when she came to watch her older brother’s games and Malick Blake has clearly joined the not so successful school football team. They are all people he used to know, victims of time. Peter is quickly overwhelmed, but the teachers keep them busy, handing out instructions and homework like it’s christmas. Before he knows it, the bell rings, then another and it’s time for lunch. 

With the noise, Peter drifts away, his thoughts far into space. He remembers the sound of falling bodies, regret and well placed hits. Then arms around him, whispers and then, slipping aw-  
“Hey losers.” The bench shakes slightly under the weight of a new occupant and Peter is back in the cafeteria. He looks up from his sandwich and Michelle Jones is sitting at their table, her face already buried in a book. Nothing has changed. Ned is speaking again and everything moves around them and Peter finally exhales. Everything is good, normal. Ned is by his side, MJ close by. As always, she barely involves herself but is still present, still ready to offer input on “nerd talk”, as she puts it. Students are chatting, laughing, a “Penis Parker” can be heard across the cafeteria. Like nothing has changed, as if everything is still the same.


End file.
